


Waiting on you

by ljummen (Vendelin)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Captain Geno, Lack of Communication, M/M, Waiters & Waitresses, waiter sid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 11:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15095600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/pseuds/ljummen
Summary: Sid has been working as a waiter at Seven Road Place for a while, when he has to cover for Tanger and finds himself waiting on Penguins' captain Evgeni Malkin. For some reason, Geno never seems pleased with Sid's service.





	Waiting on you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werebear (rhien)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhien/gifts).



> I wrote this for werebear, because she's an incredible beta, and I wanted to thank her in some way. Thanks to M who beta read this for me, even though she doesn't read hockey rpf.
> 
> ALSO I'M SORRY FOR THE PUNNY TITLE BUT I HAD TO.

**** It’s one of those too-busy nights. The owner of the  _ Seven Road Place _ has a bad tendency to overbook on weekends. Especially if the person who wants a table is well-known. It’s one of those nights where Sid has an extra table, and everyone has particular tastes. 

Pushing up his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, Sid makes sure that his shirt looks okay before he heads out of the kitchen. It’s a large restaurant located in one of the old industrial buildings, so the ceilings are high and the architecture is incorporated in the interior. Sid really likes the bar facing some of the smaller, more relaxed tables, as well as the large dining area with chandeliers from forged iron and large light bulbs, and the exposed ceiling beams. It’s obviously expensive without the stuffy feel, and the lighting is dim enough that Sid doesn’t have to worry if he spills something on his shirt. Unless it’s red wine, obviously. 

“Honestly,” Flower says from where he’s filling crystal bottles with sparkling water, and makes Sidney pause in the bar. “I know you didn’t want to work tonight, but you’re gonna thank yourself.”

“I have a paper due tomorrow,” Sid sighs. He only said yes to working because he’s quite new here, and he needs them to know that he wants to work and is reliable. 

“Yeah, but you’re about to make a lot of money in one night.” Flower grins. 

“Why?” Sid follows Flower’s gaze when he nods towards Sid’s new table. 

“Because that’s Geno Malkin and he always tips like crazy. Tanger served him a few weeks back, and he got like a 90% tip.” 

For a second, Sid doesn’t believe him, but then his gaze locks on a face that shouldn’t be this familiar when he’s never seen it before. Not in person, that is. Sid watches every Pens game he can fit into his study and work schedule, even though he can’t afford to buy actual tickets. 

Malkin is sitting down, but he’s definitely tall. Taller than most people Sid’s ever met. It’s fine, he’ll finish his paper when he gets home tonight. They invented coffee for a reason, right? 

Flower nudges his shoulder. “Close your mouth and get over there.” 

Checking to make sure his notepad and pen are still in his pocket, Sid straightens his back, pushes up his glasses again, and approaches the table. There are five of them, and he recognizes at least three, except for Malkin, from the Penguins. 

“Welcome to SRP,” Sid starts and then continues with his usual greeting. However, Malkin interrupts him halfway through. 

“Where Tanger?” 

Sid blinks and resists the urge to look down. “Uh. He’s—I’m filling in for him today.”

“Okay.” Malkin looks at him for a moment before he smiles. “What your name?” 

This time Sid actually does look down for a second. He was just about to get to that part, before he was interrupted. “It’s Sidney. Sid. Call me Sid.” 

“Cool.” It’s Hörnqvist who says it. “Would you mind getting me an Eriksberg, Sid?”

He almost drops his pen as he hurries to jot their drink order down. He expects them to roll their eyes at him for being so obviously nervous, and whatever skills he’s acquired over the months he’s been here— they’ve gone out the window. Luckily for him, they’re all very relaxed guys and they don’t even comment on the fact that Sid pours their drinks from the wrong side at first. 

“Sid,” Malkin says as Sid is carefully stacking their dirty plates a long while later. 

“Yes?” Sid says and tries to look up and keep the plates balanced at the same time. Malkin saves one that tips dangerously to the side. Shit. He can usually do this in his sleep. What’s wrong with him?

“You always work here, or do school like Tanger?”

Sid nods. “I’m in grad school.” 

“Is fun? You like?” 

“It’s mostly a lot of work, but I like history a lot, so I’m trying to remember that when midterms and finals come around.” 

Malkin smiles at him and Sid almost forgets to take the plate from him before he leaves their table. 

He shouldn’t be disappointed when he gets a 20% tip. It’s more than some guests pay for  _ great _ service. It’s still a lot of money. Hockey players are loaded, so naturally they ordered some of the most expensive dishes on the menu and SRP is a high end place to begin with. 

“Is dinner on you tomorrow?” Flower asks when Sid counts his tips that night. 

“Not really,” he sighs. “I did okay, though.”

“Dude, Malkin and his guys ate  _ a lot _ .” 

“Yeah, but I also wasn’t that great of a waiter. Got 20% give or take.” 

Flower blinks at him. “Ah, crap. Better than nothing, though? Tanger didn’t get a dollar from that politician that was in here the other week, and he was a shit guest.”

“It’s still quite a bit of money,” Sid agrees. Still, had he kept his shit together and gotten 90% like Tanger, he could’ve bought three dinners and still put some in his savings account. 

Sid has mostly forgotten about it a couple of weeks later, when he’s working with Tanger and Malkin comes in again. 

They’re seated at one of Tanger’s tables, so Sid can breathe for the rest of the night. Still, when he breezes past Malkin and his company on his way to a table of his own with their drinks, Malkin smiles at him. 

“Sid!” 

“Just a moment,” Sid tells him and sends his thanks to higher powers for not dropping the food or tripping over his own feet. He serves the table and hesitates as he turns back towards Malkin. It was probably just meant as a greeting, Sid figures, but he said that he’d come back in a moment. Just as he’s about to head back to see if his drinks are ready for table four, Malkin catches his attention with a big grin. 

“Not think you work,” Malkin says. 

“Oh?” Is all Sid can come up with.

“Tanger our waiter,” Malkin clarifies. 

“You’re in his section,” Sid says, and when Malkin frowns he tries to explain. “The restaurant is divided in different sections and we split them between the waiting staff. You know, so the workload is somewhat even.” 

He doesn’t say that it’s also so you don’t work your ass off so that someone else gets your tips at the end of the day. 

“That your section?” Malkin asks and motions towards the tables Sid waits tonight. 

“Usually.” So maybe he likes to keep things the same way if he can and his coworkers are okay with that. “Sorry, I have to go check on drinks for one of my tables.”

Malkin nods and smiles. “So nice see you, Sid.” 

He can’t quite wrap his head around the conversation, but work picks up anyway, so he doesn’t have time to think about it for the rest of the night. Before they head home, Sid glances at the wad of bills Tanger unfolds. He’s not wearing his glasses, but it’s not like he needs them to be able to tell that it’s a lot of money.

“It’s Geno,” Tanger explains. “He tips like crazy. Got closer to 100% tonight.”

Well fuck. 

* * *

 

It’s a week later when Sid sees Malkin again. He’s just about to bring the appetizers to table five, when a familiar face causes him to pause mid-step. There’s Malkin, with Dumoulin, Rust and Sheary. Clearly he’s on some kind of mission to make sure that the younger players are taken care of. 

“Sid,” he says, smiling, when their eyes meet. “This your section?”

“Uh,” is all Sid manages to say at first, and then he mentally slaps himself. Here’s his chance to do a better job than last time. “It is! I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

It goes smoothly. Sid doesn’t lose his focus and makes sure they get what they order, checking in just enough to make sure they know he’s paying attention but not so much that they feel suffocated. He only falters when Malkin tries to make small talk again. 

“How is school?” Malkin asks as Sid brings them a new bottle of wine and refills their glasses. 

“Oh, uh, it’s good. Lots to do, but that’s the point.” Sid gives his best smile. 

“Is exam period?” Malkin asks. 

“It is.” Sid can’t comprehend that Malkin even remembered him mentioning that before. Let alone to try and figure out when that actually is. 

“But you keep work?”

“It’s a good distraction. A change of scenery.” It’s not like he stops needing money just because he’s up over his ears in schoolwork. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Malkin. I have to make sure everyone else has everything they need.” 

“Please, call me Geno.” 

Sid doesn’t lose his smile when Geno tips him the customary 20% again. At least not until everyone has left and it’s just him and Flower, waiting for their bus home. 

“Had a good night?” Flower asks him. 

“Not really,” Sid confesses and scrapes the sole of his shoe against the ground. 

“No luck with Malkin?”

“I shouldn’t complain. He tipped 20% and Mrs. Andersen didn’t give me more than five, and she had special orders on everything.” Sid sighs and breathes in the cool night air. “I did well, though. Last time I messed up some, because I was nervous, but I felt like I did better tonight. Still the same, though.” 

Flower makes a considering noise. “I know Tanger is pretty chill around Malkin. They make small talk and stuff.”

“He’ll probably ask for Tanger whenever he’s around anyway.” 

The Pens go away for a long roadtrip and Sid is too occupied with school to keep closer track than watching the games when he has time and checking the scores when he doesn’t.

Geno plays well and scores a hattrick in the last away game. He’s at SRP, in Sid’s section, when Sid works a Friday evening two days later. They’re a handful of people and it’s earlier than usual, so maybe they’re heading out somewhere after. 

“Sid!” Geno greets, grinning, when Sid heads over to their table. 

There’s a weird moment when the entire table turns to look at him, and they smirk knowingly, as though they know exactly how terrible he is at his job. 

“Hi,” he says and he’s going to try Tanger’s tactic and be more relaxed with them. “How’s it going? Congrats on a successful roadtrip.”

“Just out for dinner before club,” Geno says and the other guys nod in agreement. There’s the Swedes, Hagelin and Hörnqvist, and Sid recognizes Kessel and the goalie, Murray, as well. He’s almost as tall as Geno. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Sid smiles. “Do you guys want a moment with the menus, or do you already know what you wanna drink?”

It’s just beer. It’s almost always beer with them. When Sid comes back with their drinks, Hörnqvist slaps a hand on his arm and says:

“So, are you working late or you could meet up with us at the club?” 

Sid’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and he forgets his words. “Uh—”

“Horny,” Geno barks and it’s harsh enough that Sid has to look at him. “He waiter. Stop.”

Hörnqvist holds his hands up. “Sorry.”

Before Sid moved to Pittsburgh and college, he wasn’t the most popular guy in school. This isn’t the first time he’s been so blatantly uninvited to something. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t plan on going anyway, it still stings. 

“I’ll give you a couple of more minutes with the menus and then I’ll be back and take your orders,” Sid says and escapes.

He stands in the kitchen for a while and breathes, pretending to clean his glasses to have an excuse. Reaves looks up from where he’s chopping vegetables, without stopping, and frowns.

“What happened? Do I need to kick someone out for sexual harassment again?”

“It’s fine,” Sid says before he can think. “It’s nothing. I just have to take a breather.”

“I’m not buying it, but I’m not gonna push it.” 

Sid manages a weak smile and slips his glasses back on. “Thanks.”

When he heads back to the table, the atmosphere among them is strange. Sid can’t shake the feeling that they’ve had some kind of discussion while he hid in the kitchen. He doesn’t dare to comment on it, though. 

They order without a fuss and Sid can concentrate on the other guests while the kitchen does its magic. It’s a relief. He looks up on occasion and meets Geno’s gaze more than once. What’s he worried about? That Sid is going to come with them anyway, despite being so blatantly unwelcome? He’s working until late anyway, so even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able. 

“Have a good evening, Sid,” Hagelin says as they get up to leave a couple of hours later. “The food was amazing.”

“I’ll tell the chef,” Sid says, plastering on a smile. He pretends not to see when Hörnqvist sticks a few bills in the leather folder and hands it to him directly. 

“Good job,” Hörnqvist tells him, as though that’s something you tell your waiter. 

“Thanks,” Sid says automatically. Then, Geno pauses in front of him and he’s so tall standing up. 

“Sorry for before,” he says and his eyes search Sid’s face with concern. “It come out wrong.” 

“Have a good night,” Sid manages. An apology is more than he got in high school, at least. It’s something. 

Geno opens his mouth again, but shakes his head to himself before he heads out after the rest of them. 

The tip is closer to 50% and Sid is not above getting pity money when it comes to his work. 

* * *

 

He doesn’t work the following week, sweating and freezing through a fever, and he barely has enough brain capacity to get his school work done. Tanger covers for him, and checks in late on Saturday, when Sid is eating ice cream at their rickety kitchen table straight from the tub. 

“Geno says hi.” 

Sid chokes. “What?”

“He asked about you, and I told him that I’m covering for you, because you’re home sick.” 

Sid half-suspects Tanger provided that information without being prompted, but he doesn’t have enough energy to call him out on it. “Okay.”

“He asked how you were doing and I told him that you’re getting better.”

“Ice cream makes everything better.” 

“Did something happen?” Tanger asks. 

“I’m sick.” 

“Not with  _ that _ . With Geno? He was all worried and I got the impression that he assumed that you avoided him on purpose. He was really relieved when I told him that you’re sick.” 

Sid plans on lying for some reason he doesn’t really know, but then drops the idea. He’s too drained. “It was an awkward thing last time they were in.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Sid shrugs. It’s not like Tanger is going to stop being his friend just because a bunch of NHL players don’t want their waiter to join them when they drink. “Hornqvist asked me if I worked late or if I wanted to meet up with them at whatever club they were headed to, but uh, Geno told him off, because I’m a waiter.”

Tanger stares at him and Sid’s face grows hot. He continues as fast as he can, “And it’s not like I was going to anyway, you know? I have my own friends, I don’t need to go out with them. It’s just...”

“It’s a shitty way to go about it,” Tanger supplies.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe they were joking and Geno didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Maybe.” Probably not. Geno is an NHL captain and makes millions each year. He wants his waiters to stay in the restaurant where they belong. “I told him I’m in grad school,” Sid whispers to the tub.

“Being a waiter is  a perfectly fine job, Sid. He can fuck off if he’s got a problem with that. What’s he gonna do? Serve himself food?”

Shrugging, Sid digs out the clump of cookie dough. “At least I didn’t have to deal with him today.”

Tanger swears under his breath in French and Sid pretends that he doesn’t understand the speech that comes after. It’s not directed to him anyway. Tanger has this habit of talking angrily to himself about other people that’s usually highly entertaining, but tonight Sid wants to go to bed and sleep for another twelve hours. 

He shares this place with Tanger, Flower, and Reaves. They all got their jobs at SRP because of Reaves, who’s been working in the kitchen ever since he started college. He’s a sous chef now, and managed to get the three of them jobs there. Sid moved into the apartment a year ago, when his last relationship ended and he decided to do grad school after all. His bedroom is the smallest, with the cold plastic floor under the rag rug, sunbleached wallpaper, and a bed that squeaks every time he moves. He likes it, though. It’s his chance to start over. 

He dozes in front of the TV for a while, and then listens to Flower preparing dinner. The best and worst part about the apartment is the combined kitchen and living room. It’s great when they have friends over, and perfect for hanging out. It’s less great when Sid wants to eat breakfast cereal in his underwear and Reaves has a girl over and gets handsy on the couch. 

It’s perfect now, though, because Flower takes pity on him, where he’s wrapped up in blankets and vaguely listening to the news. However long later, there’s a bowl of soup on the coffee table. 

“You look like shit,” Flower says.

“Haven’t showered in three days,” Sid tells him and somehow finds an opening in his cocoon to reach for the bowl. “Thanks.”

“Are you behind on anything for classes?”

“Nah.” Sid gives up on the spoon and drinks the soup from the bowl. “Nothing’s due this week and I got a few things done today.”

Flower hesitates. “Want me to proofread?”

“Would you?” 

“Only for you, dude.”

* * *

 

Sid works out before class once he’s well enough. It’s messed up how quickly you lose everything you worked up to once you’re sick for a week. It’s a good thing he’s used to working out, having played hockey all through high school. Then things got too expensive and too complicated. He kept up with the workouts, though, and plays for fun sometimes when he gets the chance. 

A guy smiles at him when Sid puts the weights back in their respective place. Thank god he’s already flushed. He smiles back. The guy is hot, so what?

“Going out this weekend?” the guy asks him. 

“Maybe,” Sid says, even though he’s supposed to catch up on school work and squeeze in shifts at SRP. “Why?”

“Dunno.” The guy cocks his head to the side and grins. “Figured it’d be nice if you came to my friend’s party on Friday.”

“I might.” Sid smiles. “Where is it?” 

The guy writes down an address in Sid’s phone, as well as putting himself as a contact. His name is Tyler, and he’s Sid’s height, slimmer in built and with a slightly too-long surfer’s cut. But he’s hot anyway, with nice arms and shoulders, and Sid hasn’t gotten laid in a few months. 

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” Sid says, before he gets himself ready for class. 

* * *

 

Friday is the first playoff game for the Penguins and Sid can’t help but check his phone every chance he gets during his shift at SRP. By the start of the third period, the score is still 0 -- 0 and he gets too busy to check it again, until he’s off. 

“You do realize that this address is in Sewickley, right?” Tanger tells him in the staff room. They’ve agreed to go to together, all four of them.

“So?”

“Rich people live there.”

“So maybe he knows someone rich,” Sid says and changes into his best jeans, and a t-shirt that might be a little too tight. He leaves his glasses in his locker and checks his phone. 2 -- 0 to the Pens. One goal by Geno.  _ Yes _ . 

“Well I’m down for it,” Reaves says as he comes into the room. “I’m guessing free booze.” 

They’re all ready and waiting for Flower, when he rushes in twenty minutes later. “Sorry, sorry, apparently everyone wants bellinis tonight.”

“Should’ve brought some for us,” Reaves mutters. “As compensation.”

“That, my friend, is illegal,” Flower says and Sid has never seen a human being get ready for a night out this fast. 

Reaves is the designated driver because he’s got kitchen prep tomorrow morning and he’s the only one who has more fun sober anyway. Sid thought that people falling asleep as soon as they get alcohol in their bodies were a myth or an exaggeration at least, unless you’re super drunk, but Reaves snoozes anywhere after two beers. 

The drive is a little too far for Sid’s liking—he’s not going to be able to walk home if he wants to—and it’s awkward because there’s a freaking gate and Sid doesn’t know the code or the name of the friend living here. 

“Uh,” he says. “I’ll call.” 

“I want rich people booze,” Tanger sighs as Sid waits while the signals go through. “If I don’t get it, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Flower snorts.

Sid tunes them out and tries calling again when he reaches voicemail. Tyler doesn’t pick up the second time, either. “Sorry. He’s not picking up.”

“We’ll go to a club!” Flower shouts before Tanger can start whining, and Sid is forever grateful. “Let’s go to that place you always talk about, Kris.”

“We’re never gonna get in,” Tanger sighs.

“We’re going,” Reaves says and turns the car around before anyone can come up with another plan.

Sid’s mood plummets the further they get from Sewickley. He wanted to get laid, and picking up in a club hasn’t really been his thing, ever. It’s awkward and loud, and he can’t dance. However, the least he can do is make an effort to have a great night with the guys, since he’s the one who didn’t plan ahead. 

The club is one Tanger has been bugging them about for months. It opened before Christmas and it’s the most popular place in the city at the moment. They’re  _ never _ going to get in. The line is ridiculously long, and there are people who aren’t dressed in jeans and a t-shirt who are definitely going to get priority. 

“Shit,” Flower sighs. 

“Yeah.” Sid doesn’t say the obvious. 

Tanger, however, who’s been moping the entire ride, suddenly lights up as he stretches up on his toes. “I’ll get us in,” he says, before he disappears in the crowd.

“That guy has way too much confidence in his looks,” Reaves snorts and Sid laughs. It’s true. Tanger considers himself the hottest guy on earth and Sid can name quite a few who are hotter. One, for starters, being—

—Geno. 

What the fuck.

Because there’s Tanger and he’s got Geno with him, motioning for them to get a move on. Sid doesn’t have time to think twice, before he trails after Reaves through the crowd. 

“Come on,” Tanger says, chest puffed out so he’s obviously proud of his accomplishment. 

Geno is clearly drunk, riding high on his win and a lot of alcohol it seems. He clearly recognizes Tanger, though, and Flower who’s served him drinks in the past. He shakes hands with Reaves and lights up when Tanger explains that Reaves probably cooked some of his food. And then there’s Sid. Who suddenly distinctly remembers Geno telling his teammate that Sid wasn’t welcome to go out with them, because he’s a waiter. Apparently Tanger is fine. Funny how that is. 

“Hi,” Sid says, fighting the urge to look away. 

“Sid.” Geno smiles and for a moment Sid thinks he’s going to say something more, but then he visibly shakes himself and turns to Tanger. “Okay, I get you in. Let’s go.”

It’s ridiculously easy to slip past the line of people when you’re in the company of someone famous. Geno says hi to the bouncer and all four of them gets a wristband. Sid notices that Geno doesn’t have one of those, but maybe he doesn’t need something for people to know that he’s VIP.

He expects them to leave Geno and the rest of the team (who are currently emptying Absolut Vodka bottles like they’re water) alone once they’re inside, but when they’re about to head over to the bar, Hörnqvist notices him with a happy shout. 

_ “You!” _ And this time he doesn’t care about Geno starting to protest, instead he grabs Sid and Tanger, and drags them towards the area where the team holds up four tables. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Hagelin lights up too, and then he turns to Hörnqvist with a smirk, “Var fan hittade du honom? Du kommer få så mycket skit för det här!”

Sid doesn’t know what it means, but Hörnqvist only laughs, so maybe it was a joke. Either way, Hagelin hands him a beer and squeezes his shoulder, when Sid is pushed down on a couch next to him. 

“You like hockey, Sid?” Hörnqvist asks. 

“For sure.” Sid clutches his beer in both hands. “Uh, I used to play when I was in high school. I watch whenever I can. I work a lot.”

“Sorry about last time,” Hörnqvist says then and nods towards Geno. “He’s so uptight about weird things.” 

Sid looks over, and Geno is at a different table with Tanger and Flower, but he’s looking at Sid. He smiled when Sid got here, but he was also very clear about not wanting to go clubbing with a waiter. Or maybe it’s just Sid? A while later, Geno is talking and laughing with Flower and Sid is dragged into some discussion about what sauce is better on a burger. He only half-participates, too distracted by Geno and the drinks they keep providing him with. 

Geno seems to really be enjoying himself, but his happiness dims visibly whenever he looks over at Sid and their eyes meet. 

“I’m gonna get some air,” Sid says when Hörnqvist offers him a shot. “I’ll be back.” 

There’s a small outside area in the back that’s significantly calmer and more quiet than on the other side of the door. Sid takes a deep breath, closing his eyes at the cool air. He should go home. Sitting down and drinking a lot isn’t very smart and he knows better. Checking his phone, there are three missed calls and a text from Tyler. Sid’s stomach twists. Instead of feeling misplaced and somewhat unwelcome, he could’ve been getting laid right about now. 

“Sid, you okay?” 

Looking up, he finds Geno standing in the door. 

“Yeah.”

“Disappear for long time. Friends look for you.”

Oh. “I must’ve lost track of time.” 

He pushes away from the banister to go back inside, when Geno stops him with a hand on his shoulder. He’s so tall that Sid has to crane his neck to keep eye contact. 

“How much you drink?”

Despite knowing better, Sid feels himself grow defensive. “Why?”

“Look little unsteady.” 

“I’m fine.”

Geno looks at him for a long time, before he nods finally. “Okay.”

Still, when they find their way back to his friends, Geno says to Tanger, “He wobble.”

Opening his mouth to protest, Sid’s words get stuck in his throat when he sees the look Geno exchanges with one of his teammates. Sid can’t place the face, but he’s sure he’d know the name if someone told him. 

“I’m going home,” he says to Tanger. 

“Is it your booty call?!” Flower yells over the music, because of course he does. 

Geno doesn’t need to know that Sid is just going home, so he shrugs. “Have a good night.” 

Flower wolf-whistles, and he’s going to hate himself tomorrow for having gotten this drunk when he’s working in less than twelve hours. 

While waiting for the bus, Sid considers actually calling Tyler again and see where he’s at. Maybe he lives closer by, and still wants to hook up. But it’s almost five a.m. and Sid really needs the sleep. Flower isn’t the only one working tomorrow night. 

He wakes briefly by the rest of them coming home. Flower is laughing maniacally and Tanger is shushing him. Someone mentions Geno’s name, but Sid is too tired to translate French, so he falls back asleep. 

* * *

 

The next night is the busiest one in a while. He doesn’t even blink when Geno shows up with two friends who Sid hasn’t seen before. He realizes that they’re Russian when he walks over to take their orders and Geno translates. 

He’s on top of his game tonight, and the tips from almost all the guests are incredible. Maybe angry and hungover is the key to his success. Geno makes small talk, almost like they’re friends, and Sid likes him against his better judgment. So when Geno explains that these are a couple of his childhood friends from Russia, and mentions that he gets homesick sometimes, Sid shares that he’s from Canada, so he can sort of relate to missing home.

Everything goes a lot better than it should have, given the circumstances. Except for Geno, of course, who tips him 20%. 

Smiling despite wanting to ask what the hell Geno’s problem is, Sid thanks them and swears in the kitchen instead. 

* * *

 

It happens a few more times. Geno comes in, greets him with a big smile, talks to Sid like he really enjoys doing just that, but doesn’t tip more than 20% no matter how great Sid is at his job. He wouldn’t have cared if it wasn’t for his coworkers getting a lot more than that whenever Sid isn’t working. So why the hell is Geno insisting on being seated in Sid’s section of the service is that terrible? 

One evening, Sid finally gives up. He’s waited on Geno and six of his teammates flawlessly for  _ hours _ and even made appropriate small talk when they initiate it. 

Still 20%.

The worst part is that he doesn’t really have a good reason for being upset and hurt. Geno is tipping him more than most people do. It just feels unfair, and it’s not something he’s going to be able to bring up with Geno at any point. 

It’s even worse when he hears about Tanger being asked to join them at a club somewhere, when Sid’s studying his ass off at home. So it wasn’t even the fact that Sid is a waiter, which would’ve been bad enough. It’s that he’s Sid. 

* * *

 

The next time Geno comes in after that, Sid asks Tanger to switch tables with him. He pretends not to see Geno’s questioning gaze when Tanger is the one who shows up to take their order, and focuses on that douchey senator that never tips a penny. But at least Sid doesn’t have to feel small and confused. 

It happens two more times before Tanger isn’t there to switch tables with him, and his coworkers who are actually working are too stressed to help out. 

“Sid,” Geno says, surprise all over his face. He’s with Kessel today, just the two of them. 

“Welcome gentlemen,” Sid begins and rattles off the normal welcome speech, like Geno hasn’t been here a hundred times. “Can I take your drink orders, or do you need a few minutes?”

Geno seems too caught up in frowning at him to tell Sid his order, so Kessel does it for him with a sigh. “Sorry about him. He’ll take the same as me.”

It all goes somewhat smoothly, despite Sid trying to interact with them as little as he possibly can while still doing a good job. 

Geno pauses when they’re about to leave, stopping just by the bar. “Sid.”

“Yes?” 

“Why you angry at me?”

Shit. Honestly, Sid never thought Geno would ask him so directly. 

“I’m not angry with you,” he lies smoothly. 

“You angry.”

So maybe not that smoothly after all. 

Geno looks at him for a moment. “You switch table with Tanger every time, and you avoid. What I do wrong?”

Sid blames his lack of sleep lately for completely losing his professionalism. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? I don’t know what else to do to make you happy here, Geno. I—I’m sorry, but you clearly appreciate Tanger’s work more than mine so it seemed fair to the both of you if we switched.” 

“Why you think I like Tanger more?” 

Sid bites his lip. Well fuck, if he gets fired he gets fired. “You tip him a lot more than you tip me,” he says quietly, and then, “actually, I think you tip everyone here more than you tip me.” 

“Sid,” Geno says, gaze softening. 

“I just don’t get why you keep asking to be seated in my section if you think I’m that bad.” 

“I ask because I’m like you most,” Geno says with a small smile. 

“Clearly not,” Sid sighs. 

Geno hesitates visibly, before he reaches out and squeezes Sid’s wrist. “This your workplace, Sid. I’m not want intrude or make uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not following.” His heart is sort of stuttering in his chest, but nothing is making sense right now. 

“I only tip customary because I see you, and I’m want ask you out. Can’t do at work because is wrong put you on spot like that, you know? Can’t tip more, because I’m not want you think I try for buy you. I tell Horny off because is important respect your work. We not friends like Tanger. Is different understanding with him. I’m interest in you, only get more when I come here more times. I’m sorry for make you think I don’t like. Is opposite problem, see?”

Sid stares at him. “What?”

“Maybe I see you at club again tonight?” Geno asks. “If I do I ask you out. Can’t do here. Is your work.” 

He gives Sid a tight smile before he leaves. 

“Wow,” Flower says behind him and Sid jumps. 

“Fuck you scared me,” he says, clutching his heart. 

“That was quite the confession. And here you’ve been upset with him because he wanted to be a decent guy to you.” Flower smirks as he crushes mint leaves for the mojitos. 

“I thought he was an ass to me.”

“I know. It sounds like we gotta go out clubbing when we’re done here.”

Sid blinks. “What?”

“I’m tempted to drink these myself right now,” Flower sighs and nods towards the drinks. “Geno just told you that if you want to date him, you need to come see him at that club we went to when you were supposed to get laid but messed up. Do you wanna date him?”

“I can’t date him. He’s Geno.” 

“So?”

Sid swallows. “He’s a captain in the NHL. I’m just me.”

“He clearly doesn’t care. Why do you?” Flower tilts his head to the side. 

“It’s just…” Sid shrugs. 

“He’s gotta have a life after he retires too, you know. If you’re into him, you should give it a try.”

What does he say to that? 

“Get back to work, you have guests waiting,” Flower says instead of waiting for a reply, and pushes him in the direction of the dining room. 

Sid is grateful that he’s been working long enough by now to be able to do this in his sleep. His brain is too occupied with thinking about Geno. He knows that he’s thinking too much again, but dating an NHL captain would come with a lot of things that Sid hasn’t really thought about. He’s never been a great fan of attention, so that’s a definite downside. The only upside he sees is, well,  _ Geno _ . 

But he’s funny and warm. He’s made Sid laugh so many times, and now, when he knows why Geno didn’t tip him more or invite him along like his team did with Tanger, he’s even sweeter. Sid  _ does _ hate getting asked out at work. It puts him in an awkward position where he doesn’t want to say yes, but if he says no, it might affect his tip at the end of the day. 

The fact that Geno even took that into consideration is pretty huge for a guy who makes millions every year. 

“Okay,” Sid says to Flower when he passes him in the bar. 

“I’ll text Tanger.”

Sid didn’t exactly bring his best clothes to leave work in, but he’ll make do. Geno sees him in his pressed shirt and slacks all the time, and apparently he still got interested. So Sid is in a grey t-shirt with red, yellow and green lines across the chest, and faded black jeans. His hair looks alright, at least. 

It’s past midnight when they get there, and Sid realizes that they don’t have any way of getting in now, when Geno is already inside. 

“I didn’t think this through,” he sighs. Again. 

“You’re lucky I’m not just pretty, I’m smart too,” Tanger says and puts his phone to his ear, to whoever picks up, he says, “Yeah, we’re outside.”

Sid doesn’t know why he’s even surprised when Hörnqvist shows up by the bouncer and lets them through. 

“Glad you’re here, Sid.” He squeezes Sid’s shoulder and pushes him through the crowd, towards the familiar back rooms where they hung out last time. 

It takes Sid a second to find Geno, but there he is, at the edge of a couch, concentrating on his phone. There’s no drink in sight. 

“He’s been pouting for over two hours,” Hörnqvist says. “We were starting to think that you wouldn’t show up.” 

“I was working.” But they’ve already disappeared to get drinks, and Sid is left standing there, looking at Geno. How does he go about this? Does he walk over there and knock on Geno’s shoulder? Does he just stand here and wait for Geno to notice him?

Turns out he doesn’t have to decide, because that very second, Geno looks up and spots him. The surprise is so obvious on his face, and then he smiles a little tentatively. Sid is just about to walk over to him when Geno gets up and grasps his arm. 

“We go outside? So loud here.” 

“Okay, yeah.” 

They go out the back, where Sid moped the last time he was here. It’s warmer out now, and there are multicolored string lights stretching across the small square of glass. But it’s just them out here. 

“You come,” Geno says and there’s a bit of awe in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Sid shifts from foot to foot. “I’m sorry my shift was so long.” 

“Not need for apologize,” Geno says. “Just worry you decide I’m not for you.” 

Sid looks at him, at the way his eyes are a little sleepy but so warm and with a twinkle of mischief when he wants to. At his ridiculously long legs and huge hands. At the way he’s looking back at Sid, like he’s way better than anyone he could ever find inside. How did he miss this for so many months? 

“You’re definitely for me,” Sid says and his face grows hot. “I—If you still want to, I’d like to go out with you.”

“Now?” Geno asks and Sid blinks.

“It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I know good place,” Geno says and his smile is so big that Sid can’t help but smile too. “I make sure you get home after.”

“Okay,” Sid says, before he can think too much about it. 

So he ends up in a cramped diner a few blocks away. It’s worn down, but not shabby in any way, and Geno clearly knows the woman behind the counter. 

“Is this him?” she says, grinning, once they’re settled in a corner booth pressed together as though there isn’t room for another three people there. 

“Is him,” Geno says, smiling wider than Sid’s ever seen him smile before. He puts an arm over Sid’s shoulders, heavy and warm. 

“He’s talked about you for months, hon, so glad he finally manned up enough to ask you out,” she tells Sid, pointing at him with her pen, before she turns to Geno. “You want him to try your speciality?” 

Geno’s speciality turns out to be giant milkshakes with way too much whipped cream and homemade chocolate sauce dripping down the sides of the glass. 

“You’ve talked about me for months?” Sid asks around his straw. To his surprise, Geno’s cheeks turn pink.

“Yes,” he says and smiles sheepishly. “After first time I talk to you, I think you more pretty than anyone I’m ever see. I want ask you out, but can’t find good time for do so, you know? So, I wait, like a long time. Keep going to dinner, keep talking about best waiter, who most pretty and so smart, go to grad school for history. Whole team know, so is why Horny ask you to come out, he so sick of my pining.” 

Geno stirs his milkshake slowly with his straw. 

“I…” Sid begins, but he can’t find his words very well. 

“Sorry if is too much.” 

“I just...I didn’t think you liked me. It makes sense now, everything, and I wouldn’t have said yes to go out with you if you had asked me at work. Thank you for respecting that.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Geno looks at him. “So close a few time. But job is important and I’m not want ruin for you.”

Before Sid can think too much about it, he leans in and kisses Geno gently. He tastes like strawberry and chocolate, too sweet, but soft and warm. When Geno cups his cheek, gently tracing the line of his jaw, Sid shivers and pulls away, licking his lips. 

“I hope that was okay.”

“Most okay,” Geno says, eyes soft and his hand still on Sid’s cheek. 

They have another milkshake, and kiss again, until four in the morning. His stomach cramps from laughing too hard, and his face hurts from smiling too wide. 

And his chest aches because suddenly his heart is overflowing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ljummen.tumblr.com)!


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